


romantic fantasies

by thebrobecks



Series: Glowing Eyes [3]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Anxiety, Broken Bones, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Character Injury, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9344021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrobecks/pseuds/thebrobecks
Summary: random blurbs taking place in the glowing eyes universe that don't really fit into the main fic. most likely will not have a linear progression of time from chapter to chapter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> here's me, with something that's not what i said i would update with! woo, wrote this in two days. have fun.  
> this takes place directly after the events of night's decor. check it out bruh.

When Josh woke up, he thought he was back in the Basement, that his escape had been naught but a cruel fallacy. This was enough to make his eyes snap open, upper body jolting off the surface he’d been laying on as his arms scrambled to support his weight. He dug his teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip to suppress a squeak as pain sparked down his back and made his arms wobble. His futile attempt to hold himself up crumbled, and he flopped back down to the mattress below him with a soft groan.

Wait. Mattress? He was never given…

He opened his eyes again, suddenly noticing the yellow light filtering through his lashes. A look around the room told him he was in some sort of… bedroom. It was spacious —almost too spacious for his liking. A tall dresser was pressed against the wall to his right, a sleek modern-looking lamp sitting on its surface and giving the room its light. Josh’s hands fisted in the soft material beneath him. Looking down, he saw wrinkled cream-colored bedsheets that were smattered with dark patches of brown. Tightening his grip on the sheets, he realized it was blood.

His blood. 

As he tried to keep his breathing even, a door creaked open from somewhere behind him. His heart skipped a beat or four and he flipped over onto his backside, facing the sound. Acting on  nothing but pure animalistic instinct, his talons extended out from his fingertips and white-hot heat gathered in his lungs. He ignored the sound of fabric ripping in favor of keeping his gaze trained on whoever opened the door.

His piercing, fearful stare met with that of a rather sturdy-looking man, with ruffled reddish hair and big glasses that framed two blue eyes that were blown wide in surprise. The man’s hand twitched on the doorknob, obviously indecisive as to what to do next. Seeming to make a choice, he took a slow step into the room and pushed the door behind him. He raised calloused hands in a placating manner and tried to give him a reassuring smile, but Josh didn’t let his guard down. 

“Hey,” the man began, voice friendly and somewhat deep. “I-I didn’t realize you were up. Sorry that I, ah, startled you.” He let out an uneasy chuckle, eyes betraying his nervousness. 

“Wh-” Josh’s voice cracked with disuse, and he cleared his throat. “Who are you? Where… where am I?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it grew small as he finished speaking. His jaw trembled.

The man seemed to relax a bit, the tense height of his shoulders lowering just a bit. “I’m Patrick. My friends found you in the woods. They brought you back to the house. They’re, er, we all are, um, mutants,” he stammered out the last sentence, seeming to glance at something above Josh. “I, um, you’re kind of, like, smoking, uhh…”

Sucking in a strained breath, Josh realized there was, indeed, smoke trailing out of his nostrils and mouth. Of course; the fire in his lungs hadn’t been released yet, and was only growing as it was fed with more oxygen. Josh sighed out a long, slow exhale, freeing the heat and smoke without setting anything on fire. “S-sorry,” he mumbled.

Patrick looked equal parts impressed, curious, and wary, head tilted slightly to the side and brows knitted. His eyes followed the wispy smoke as it curled up towards the ceiling, pooling for a moment before dispersing and filling the room with a sooty scent. Despite the somewhat fearful look on his face, he took a couple more steps towards Josh’s right. 

Startled by the sudden movement, Josh flinched away and snapped his wings to their full length. It usually scared things off when he did that, increasing his size to look more intimidating. Giant dragon wings were rather intimidating on their own, anyway. 

White hot, horribly sudden agony exploding from his right wing blinded him and made his chest seize. He doubled over, a high whine grating the back of his throat. He could feel his talons digging into his sides, tearing his shirt and probably his skin, but that didn’t matter. 

“Ah, shit, are you-are you okay?” Patrick fretted, sounding closer than he was before. “Your, your wing was broken when they found you. We got someone to, to set it and patch it up.” He paused as Josh began to sit up again, the throbs slowly lessening. “You, uh, probably shouldn’t, like, move it,” he added uselessly.

Josh twisted his head to look over his shoulder at the wing, eyes sliding right over Patrick’s expression of concern. He felt his face blanch again at the sight.

He couldn’t see exactly where the break was. The wing was tucked flush against his back, where it would usually rest while he wasn’t flying. Some sort of bandage—he believed it was vetrap—bound the appendage to his skin. It wrapped all the way around his abdomen; he could feel its pressure now that he actually thought about it. Gauze padded where the wrap enveloped his wing. 

His fists clenched the sheets. Good God, he really had broken his wing. It was real. Everything was real. This couldn’t have been some sort of sick hallucination the drugs gave him. He’d done it. He was free. 

Josh’s face crumpled in emotion, and he buried it in his hands to hide the tears that wouldn’t be held back. A tentative hand touched his shoulder, and he flinched but didn’t pull away. It rested more firmly against him, a warm reminder that this was real, that he was here and not lost thousands of miles away in a different reality. His chest heaved with irregular, heavy gulps of air.

Patrick stayed right by him as he seemingly broke down —in reality, he was crying tears of uncertain joy and shock—muttering somewhat awkward reassurances and rubbing the hand on Josh’s shoulder in slow, comforting circles. It was the first touch he’d felt in… God knows how long, that wasn’t causing harm. 

When he lifted his head again, it was with a weak grin that looked more like a grimace stretched across his pale, thin face. “It’s real,” he whispered, turning his head to meet Patrick’s inquisitive eyes, though he seemed to be staring right through the man. “I did it.” Josh let out a short laugh, though he sobered up a mere moment later. 

Patrick looked confused, but didn’t press. He got back to his feet, using the edge of the mattress to push himself up. “I, um, I’m gonna go get you something to eat. You look hungry. I’ll… I’ll also bring the guys with me. They’ve been, sort of, worried, y’know?” He made his way to the door, and paused. “Are... you okay to be by yourself for a few minutes?”

Josh only nodded, looking down at his legs underneath the sheets. The door clicked shut, and he sighed. He could feel bandages all over his body, unfamiliar pressures on his skin. There wasn’t much pain though, besides the never-ending weak throbs of his wing. Those probably wouldn’t go away for a while. 

Turning his head, he looked to his left wing. It rested at a half-folded position, ends of the wing brushing at the floor and sides of the bed. Bandages peppered the hide where it was thicker; the thinner parts were in tatters from branches ripping them apart. Pieces hung pitifully, looking seconds away from detaching and fluttering down to the floor. Besides the cuts and tears, however, the wing seemed to be undamaged.  _ Thank God _ , he thought. One broken wing was already too much. 

He supposed he couldn’t even try to shift back to looking human. From what he remembered of his attempt before passing out, it only caused him pain and would probably injure him further. The most he could do was sheathe his talons to keep from damaging the sheets more than he already had. 

A brisk rap on the door made him jump, though he didn’t react as violently as before. His talons threatened to come shooting right back out, but he kept them in and took a deep breath to slow his racing heart. 

The door creaked open a bit, and Patrick poked his head in before pushing it open all the way and stepping in. Three men stood behind them, all taller than Patrick and staring at Josh with wide eyes. One, the middle-height man attached to the tallest, seemed to be bouncing on his toes. Josh felt his chest constrict, a whining, choked noise coming from the back of his throat. There was a group, too many of them, he couldn’t be around groups that was too many people more people meant he would hurt more they were going —

“Woah, alright, let’s not overwhelm him. Um, um, crap, Dallon, you come in first. Pete, Bren, stay out there for now. One at a time.” Patrick’s voice, gentle yet commanding, gave Josh something to ground himself with. Patrick wouldn’t hurt him. 

He was being too quick to trust. 

“Hey. You alright?”

Josh only breathed for a moment, before realizing that Patrick was waiting for him to answer. He coughed, and nodded shakily. “Y-yeah, I, sorry, it’s just, g-groups. Of, of. M-men.” The last word came out as a squeak, and he curled in on himself. He sounded so pathetic. What man was afraid of other men? Him, apparently.

“It’s okay,” Patrick hummed. “I brought you something to eat. Hope noodles and butter are okay. Also, I’d like to, um, introduce you to Dallon. He’s one of the guys that found you.” He paused, getting a weird look in his eyes all of a sudden. “Oh, geez, I totally forgot to get your name I’m so sorry oh my God I’m so dumb,” he babbled, staring at Josh with wide eyes. 

Josh gave him a weak laugh. “D-don’t worry, that’s somet-thing I would do too. I, I’m Josh, by the way,” he said.

“I know that name from somewhere,” the man standing stiffly at the foot of the bed suddenly spoke up. His eyes then blew wide in realization, staring at Josh in recognition. This must have been Dallon. “No… No fuckin’ way,” he muttered.

“What?” Patrick said, confusion coloring his features. Absently, he handed Josh the bowl he was holding. 

“This, this is the guy that was all over the news a couple months ago. Joshua Dun. Went missing from his college dorm. It’s gotta be the same guy.” Dallon spoke matter-of-factly, hands giving small twists and turns as he talked.

Both men turned to look at Josh, the taller with shock and the shorter with ebbing confusion. 

“I. Yeah, I-I, um, supp-pose I went. Missing.” Josh stumbled through his words, feeling like he was obligated to speak. 

“Holy shit,” Dallon breathed, sitting in a chair that Josh hadn’t noticed before and holding a hand to his forehead. 

Josh suddenly seemed to notice the bowl of noodles in his hands. He stared down at it distrustfully, his insides feeling cold. “I, um, this isn’t, d-drugged, right?” He regretted the question as soon as it passed his lips, shoulders inching up towards his chin. Now Patrick was probably mad at him. Now he would get hurt. 

Patrick almost looked offended, brows furrowed and mouth pulled into a frown, before his features softened in realization. “No, no, of course not. ‘S just spaghetti.”

Josh didn’t move for a moment, expecting cruelty but only getting a reassurance. The fork was cold beneath his fingers as he slowly twirled the noodles around the prongs. He didn’t truly believe that there wasn’t  _ something  _ in here, but, well, he had reason enough to be cautious and doubtful. Still, though, he wouldn’t refuse the food. Even if it was drugged, it was food, and he needed to eat to stay alive and heal and… get back to his family. 

His family.

Josh felt his chest grow heavy, and he rested the fork on the side of the bowl and swallowed his mouthful of spaghetti. Fuck. He’d hardly given them any thought since he escaped. He had been too preoccupied with getting away, staying in the air, not  _ dying _ . God, his mother. She had to be so  _ worried _ . And his father, and his siblings, they didn’t deserve this. He, he needed to-

“Josh? What’s wrong?” A voice broke him from his thoughts, and he suddenly realized he was crying. 

“I, I need to, my  _ family _ . I need to t-tell them, please, a, a phone,  _ something _ .” Josh lurched forward, trying to get out of the bed. His wing twinged as it was jostled, but he ignored the pain and staggered to his feet. 

A hand on his chest, firm and big, stopped him before he hurt himself further. “Hey. Calm down, alright? We’ll get you a phone. Patrick, find something.”

Josh cringed away from the pressure on his chest, talons scrabbling at it in desperation. They seemed to have made a reappearance in his panic. He heard somebody curse, and there was a warm liquid dribbling down his fingers. Had he…?

A lungful of air managed to make it down his windpipe, and all of a sudden Josh noticed the slashes all over the back of Dallon’s hand. Several were oozing blood. God, he’d fucked up big time. 

Unable to breathe again, Josh stumbled away from the tall man. His legs weren’t working right, shaking violently enough that it was difficult to walk. Still, he scrambled backwards until his back thudded against the wall. Josh’s arms flattened against the surface, nails scratching at the wallpaper. His knees began to buckle.

“I’m, I, I’m s-sorry, I, d-didn’t, pleas-se, don’t, I—” He only managed to gasp out a few words before he felt something tighten in his lungs. His chest heaved, unable to get in enough air. Josh folded in on himself, wrapping his arms around his head to protect it from a blow that was sure to come. He felt like he was going to die. 

“Hey, I got a—shit, what happened? Josh—Dallon, you’re—”

“I’ve had worse. He panicked when I held him back.” Dallon’s voice was calmer than it should have been. Josh just ripped his hand apart, shouldn’t he be angry? Where was the rage? Where was the yelling, the blows, the hurt?

“Oh. Go, go get that cleaned and wrapped. I can handle this.”

There was the sound of the door closing, then the creak of the bed. Josh still felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Hey, it’s okay. Dallon won’t hurt you, he’s not mad. You’re okay, Josh. He knows you didn’t want to hurt him. Just breathe through it. Everything’s okay. Breathe with me, alright?”

It felt like forever before Josh’s chest loosened enough for him to get in enough air. Taking a shuddery breath, he leaned his head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. His arms folded around his malnourished body in a weak attempt to comfort himself. 

“Are you still up to calling your family?” Patrick’s voice was quiet and soothing. 

Josh shrugged, shoulders rising unevenly. “I… I need to f-figure out what to say. How do-how do you tell y-your own mother that your...  _ best f-friend  _ drugged and, a-and kidnapped you, and three months later you’re in some random h-house with other mutants that found you practically in your death th-throes?” Josh said, a sharp, bitter edge to this voice. He barked out a helpless laugh. “I can’t adm-mit to her that it w-was my fault. I, I insisted on going to that college. L-look where it got me.” He gritted his teeth to stave off more tears. He had cried enough for ten people today, it felt like.

There was a pregnant pause, where neither man seemed to know what to say. 

“Jesus…” Patrick mumbled, staring at the carpet. 

Josh looked up at Patrick, expression heavy. “If Jesus, if G-god was real, this wouldn’t have hap-pened. I’d still be at c-college. There’s no, there’s no God up th-there.” He shook his head.

The two didn’t speak for a few minutes, Josh still trying to keep his breathing in check. There was a hesitant knock on the door. Patrick lifted his head.

“Uh, d’you wanna meet Pete and Brendon? Bren was the other guy that found you. He’s… excitable, I’ll just tell you know. Loud. He’d probably tone himself down for, for now though. I hope.”

He only shrugged. “Sure, I guess. ‘M n-not opposed to it or, or anything.”

Patrick sniffed. “Come in,” he said, voice rather flat. 

Josh couldn’t see the people that came in from where he sat. All he saw was the swinging of the door, and swaying tendrils of dark hair. Patrick offered him a hand, and he took it gratefully, pulling himself to unsteady feet.

Two men stood across the room from him. The taller one Josh recognized as the guy that had been attached to Dallon’s hip. He was the one whose hair he’d just seen, and evidently the ‘loud’ one Patrick had told him about. Brendon. 

The other man looked much calmer, hands shoved in his jeans pockets. He had dark skin, and steady hazel eyes the color of whiskey. He looked worried; about what, Josh couldn’t tell. His gaze kept flicking between Patrick and Josh. 

“Josh, meet Pete and Brendon. Brendon and Pete, meet Josh,” Patrick introduced them, gesturing to each respective man as he spoke. 

Josh nodded and waved a tentative hand. He noticed his talons were still extended, giving off a dangerous glint, and he put them away as fast as he could. 

“Hey, Josh, dude, how are you feeling? You looked like you were in really bad shape when we found you, it was freaky. I thought you weren’t gonna make it, and, it’s good that you did. I didn’t really know you but I didn’t think you deserved to die,” Brendon babbled, fingers tapping against his thighs so quickly they were nothing but blurs. One leg was bent, bouncing up and down in a nervous jig. 

Josh gave him an uneasy smile. “I… I-I’m doing o-okay, I guess. W-wing hurts, but, well, no sh-shit Sherlock, y’know?”

Brendon’s grin grew wider at Josh’s answer. On anyone else it would have been creepy, but somehow he made it look almost endearing. 

Pete raised his hand, and Josh’s eyes snapped to the movement out of instinctual alarm before relaxing. 

“Good to see you’re alright, kid. These babies made me set your wing ‘cause they’re too squeamish to handle broken bones,” he jested, flashing Josh a gleeful smirk. 

The two others gave Pete indignant protests, which only made his smirk turn into a shit-eating grin. Mischief danced in his eyes.

“Aw, c’mon, guys, I was just  _ joshin’  _ ya.” Pete raised his eyebrows and waited for their reactions.

Patrick groaned, and Brendon straight up left the room, throwing a  _ ‘Feel better, Josh!’  _ over his shoulder. Josh couldn’t help but to relax a little, an actual laugh slipping past his lips.

“Okay, okay, I will admit that, that was great, but Josh needs to rest. Go back to the living room, Pete. I’ll join ya in like, in like a minute or somethin’,” Patrick said, flapping his hands in Pete’s direction. He complied, winking at Josh before heading back out into the hallway. 

Now that he mentioned it, Josh actually did feel exhausted. He yawned. 

“Alright, I’m just gonna, let you sleep for now. Bathroom’s across the hall if you need it. Yell if you need us for anything, someone’s bound to come.” Patrick nodded once, then went to leave. He paused just as he was about to step out. “Hope you feel better when you wake up,” he told him, flashing a soft smile. Then he was gone. 

Blinking, Josh let himself fall stomach-first onto the bed. He didn’t bother pulling the covers over his body.

It was surprising, considering how socially inept he was, how comfortable he felt around these guys he’d only just met. Maybe not Dallon as much, since he’d injured the man and fought him when he was trying to help, but… Patrick and Pete and Brendon were okay. 

Feeling more safe than he had in months, Josh slipped into a dreamless, fatigued sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> woo im tired anyway thanks for reading feedback is always appreciated and is what fuels me to keep writing anyway bye have a super duper day or night or whatever


End file.
